


What the Devil Knows

by Masu_Trout



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Internalized Homophobia, Mutual Pining, Not-So-Casual Relationship, Protectiveness, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masu_Trout/pseuds/Masu_Trout
Summary: It felt like fire racing through his veins, burning him up from the inside. Already the pain had begun spreading beyond the borders of the wound; Geoffrey could feel a feverish restlessness beneath his skin, a sort of desperate nervous energy he couldn't put a name to. Sheer adrenaline, maybe. Panic at the thought of being wounded like this by some worthless leech. But...A rare breed of Ekon leaves McCullum with more than a simple bite wound. He needs help only a vampire can provide—and no matter how much he hates it, there's only one vampire he can trust to help.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 14
Kudos: 299
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2020





	What the Devil Knows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



> I really hope you enjoy this, I loved writing it so much!

Geoffrey muttered a curse as he stepped through the doorway of the dilapidated house. The door itself was hanging from bent hinges, the lock long ago smashed by looters, and a thick layer of dust covered the floorboards and the furniture both. The wallpaper was peeling, the curtains were torn, the room smelled faintly of death and rotten meat—it made the perfect hideout for a hungry and half-feral leech.

Which meant Geoffrey was getting close. And that the beast would be getting desperate.

He’d owe an apology to Eldritch’s grave if he made it out of here alive; _Don’t hunt alone_ was the first lesson his mentor had drilled into his head, and _never fight a leech holed up in its lair_ was the second. If he’d had time, he would’ve called a Priwen patrol, torched the building to its foundations and driven the creature out, but this particular vampire had been on the move for weeks now. Five dead already, all in different parts of London. It was sheer good fortune he'd tracked it here to begin with; if he left it alone for even a moment it would be gone before he got back.

Which meant he was going in, whether or not Eldritch’s spirit might be yelling at him from beyond the grave right now.

He shifted his grip on his blade and made his way towards the crumbling stairs, casting about for any signs of traps as he crossed the parlor. The building seemed untouched, completely abandoned—but he could _feel_ a cold, prickling awareness crawling up his spine that meant he was being watched.

"Come on, coward," he called out into the gloom, "aren’t you tired of running?"

A moment’s silence, hanging in the air—and then he heard an answering voice, thin and reedy, that seemed to echo from all the shadows in the room at once.

"Hunter," the beast murmured, "aren’t you tired of chasing me?"

The words stuck in his brain, thick as molasses, reminding him of the ache in his knee, the headache he couldn’t shake, the way he hadn’t slept in two nights… 

Geoffrey, as used to leeches’ attempts at worming into his mind as he was to breathing, shrugged the unsubtle suggestion off with a scowl. "Is that the best you’ve got? I’ve fought skal packs cleverer than you."

 _That_ , finally, got the reaction Geoffrey was hoping for. There was nothing so predictable as a leech’s need to believe it was better than others of its kind.

"And I _hunter_ , have eaten men far less stupid." The shadows in the furthest corner of the room were shifting, convalescing into something more solid: limbs, torso, the vague shape of a head. "You stomp around with your blade in head, expecting to fight something you can’t even reach… come, hunter, how will you catch me?"

It was taunting him, forming like this. The moment he tried to close the gap between them it would be gone. It thought he was stupid.

Geoffrey waited until he could see the first hint of skin forming around the leech’s body, then fired a crossbow bolt into the center of the creature’s shifting mass.

" _Agh_!"

The vampire dodged, but not quite quickly enough; the bolt slammed through the edge of the half-corporeal tendrils, leaving a spray of thick black blood against the far wall that remained even as the rest of it dissolved back into shadow. Its sharp cry of pain, high and bestial and vicious, hung in the dead parlor air.

Geoffrey, finally, allowed himself to grin. "Is that answer enough for you, leech?"

Even as he spoke, though, he slid his hand off the wrist-mounted crossbow and back to his other weapons: both hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword, checking the stake at his hip to make sure it would be ready if he needed to strike with it. A trick like that wouldn’t work twice against this beast.

He shifted left and right, uneasy, listening for the barest whisper of movement, trying to keep an eye on the shadows in every corner of the room at once.

 _Come on,leech_ , he thought, _show yourself—_

And then he buckled, gasping for breath with the air knocked out of his lungs, as twelve stone of furious vampire slammed into him from above.

The point of his blade jammed hard against the floor, wrenching itself from his grasp as he rolled against the floor. It was all he could do to keep track of which way was up, all he could do not to lose himself to the part of his brain that was pure animal fear as he tried desperately to shake the vampire’s claws off his back.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, _fuck, fuck—_

Overpowered by a single leech. Worse than knowing he was about to die was the shame of knowing he was about to die like this, with nothing but his own boneheaded pride to blame.

He flailed his fists wildly, managing a glancing blow against the vampire’s shoulder. The leech hissed in pain, but its claws only deepened in response: one hand against his skull, the other closing around the wrist of his dominant hand, a knee digging painfully into the small of his back.

Geoffrey thrashed wildly, trying to get leverage against the floorboards, knowing he was caught but not willing to admit it. 

_Like a fish on a hook_ , some snide, distant part of his mind thought. Wearing himself out fighting the inevitable.

That was what finally forced his rationality back to the forefront. Geoffrey forced himself to calm, to fall limp against the floor. If he wanted to survive this, his best chance—delusionally slim as it was—was to wait for the vampire to feed and strike while it was occupied.

He didn’t like the idea of letting this beast leave him with a scar. But he liked the alternative even less.

"Well," purred the leech, "not so fierce now, are we," its claws digging deep enough to draw blood. Geoffrey couldn’t smell the moment they broke the skin, but he could feel the vampire’s reaction—it sucked in a sharp breath, squirming closer to Geoffrey’s body. "Ah, you smell wonderful."

Geoffrey snarled low in his throat. "If you’re so hungry, leech, just—get it over with." Better pain than suspense.

"So defiant, to the end." The leech slid one claw between Geoffrey’s scarf and neck, sliced through the cloth with a twist of its wrist. Ekon, it had to be—but a far more twisted one than most. As many as he'd killed, he’d never fought one so visibly inhuman before. "But—you know, I don’t think I will."

Its claws rested there, against his collar, gently curving to stroke lightly against the hollow of his throat. 

"What?" Geoffrey snorted. "A merciful leech? Can’t say I’ve ever met one of those before. If you’re so eager not to kill me, I can give you a taste of my blade instead of my neck."

Of course the leech wanted to toy with him first. It was never the simple-minded, straightforward skals who managed to catch him wrong-footed; no, he had to get one with an _ego_.

(And he had met a merciful leech before, if only one, but that—he didn’t want to think about that right now. Letting his mind wander would only get him killed.)

He couldn’t see the leech’s face, pressed against the floor as he was, but he could tell it was smiling from the way its voice dropped to a low, self-satisfied purr. "I don’t know that you’ll call it mercy. But I’ll have you begging for me long before I let you die." 

Geoffrey could’ve laughed; apparently the leech hadn’t noticed how well its last attempt to control his mind had gone. But before he could say anything else, one of the leech’s claws pressed closer to his throat. A moment’s pause, the needle-thin edge cold against his pulse point—and the vampire pierced his skin.

Geoffrey jerked away with a curse, thrashing against the vampire’s grip. It stung, the wound, more than a simple gouge should have—it felt like fire injected under his skin. What the hell had the leech just done?

"There," the leech murmured, its voice disgustingly gentle, "that should— _ack_."

The creature’s voice cut off in a harsh gurgle, claws scratching against Geoffrey’s skin before its weight disappeared from his back in a sudden rush.

Shit. Something had grabbed the vampire by the neck and pulled it off of him, and whatever had done it he didn’t want to wait for it to grab him.

Geoffrey crawled forward the moment he was free, scrambling to his knees and then his feet. From behind him, there was a shrieking howl of pain—and then, answering it, a low, baritone growl.

 _Oh_ , Geoffrey thought.There wasn’t a force in the world that could’ve made him admit it, but some part of him relaxed at the sound. As monstrous as it seemed in this moment, echoing through the dilapidated house, he knew that voice well.

Finally back on his feet, Geoffrey, pulled a stake from its spot on his hip and turned just in time to watch the good Dr. Reid’s teeth close around the struggling leech’s throat. 

A gurgle slipped from between its lips, along with a bloody froth. Its claws dug into Reid’s back, trying to gain purchase against the thick leather of his coat, before its grip spasmed and went limp.

Reid went to his knees slowly. He looked as though he was cradling the other leech as much as restraining it. When finally he was close enough to the floorboards, he pulled his teeth free with a wet splatter and let the body drop to the ground.

The leech looked almost human in its second death. Too thin, too pale, its skin bruised and ugly—but nothing close to the monster that had pinned him down. Reid stared down at the creature, his expression gentle, before closing its bloodshot eyes and standing once more.

His chin and beard were dripping with the other leech’s blood. His mouth hung open just enough to reveal still-elongated fangs glistening against his gums. Geoffrey looked at him, at the wild hunger in his slit-pupiled eyes and said, " _Christ_. How did you know I was here?"

The question seemed to shake some of the strangeness out of Reid. He blinked, shaking his head, and wiped his mouth against the back of his hand like he was only beginning to realize how filthy he was.

"Hello, McCullum," he said, sounding every bit as prim as if he _hadn’t_ just shredded someone’s throat. "You’re welcome, by the way. It wasn’t any trouble."

"If I’d wanted a leech’s help I would’ve asked for it."

Reid gave him a sidelong look. They both knew full well that if Reid hadn't been here tonight, Geoffrey would have no need to ask for his help ever again. Didn't mean Geoffrey had to want to say it out loud.

"You still haven't answered my question, anyway," Geoffrey said. "How the hell did you find me?"

"I…" With a wince, he admitted, "I’m not sure you want to know."

"Try me."

Reid waved a hand towards Geoffrey's torso. "You're bleeding. It's very... noticeable."

God. How far away had Reid smelled that from? Even for an Ekon, he was frighteningly powerful. And for that matter, did he notice everyone's blood so easily or was that some special property of Geoffrey's? 

Geoffrey wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question. He shrugged, looking pointedly away, and bent to retrieve his blade.

Halfway to the ground, the pain hit. A searing agony in his neck stopped him cold; he locked his knees and slapped a hand against the pinpoint wound on the skin there, trying not to collapse to the floor entirely. Trying not let Reid see how badly he was hurt—

No such luck there. (Of course he wouldn't have any; on top of being an abomination, Reid was an insufferable busybody. He knew more about the every complaint of London's human population than any of its humans did, why shouldn't he insert himself into Geoffrey's business too?) Before he could force the pain down, Reid's cold hands were pressing against his shoulders and neck, one trying gently to pry Geoffrey's own hand away from the wound.

"Here, let me see," he murmured.

Geoffrey jerked away from the touch. "It's a claw mark, nothing more. I've had worse."

Hell, he'd had worse from Reid's own claws, once, down in the basement of the Pembroke. Something like this should be nothing. _Was_ nothing.

But no simple puncture wound ought to ache like this. And it didn't feel like nothing—it felt like fire racing through his veins, burning him up from the inside. Already the pain had begun spreading beyond the borders of the wound; Geoffrey could feel a feverish restlessness beneath his skin, a sort of desperate nervous energy he couldn't put a name to. Sheer adrenaline, maybe. Panic at the thought of being wounded like this by some worthless leech. But...

Reid's hands pressed over Geoffrey's again, implacable and insistent. This time Geoffrey didn't pull back. The coolness of his touch felt soothing, somehow. Like it was chasing the burning heat away.

"I know you don't like it, McCullum," Reid said sternly, "but I _am_ a doctor."

 _Didn't like_ was an understatement. A leech had no more business running a hospital than a fox did a henhouse. But—it was Reid. If he'd wanted McCullum dead, he could've killed him a dozen times over before tonight.

Geoffrey reluctantly slipped his hand away from the site of the wound.

At the sight of it, Reid sucked in a startled breath between his teeth. His hands pulled back, hovering over Geoffrey's skin like he was suddenly afraid to touch him.

"McCullum..." he said, hesitant. "I..."

"What?" Geoffrey snapped, harsher than he meant to sound. Reid's reaction couldn't be a good sign. "Do you not know what it is?"

"No, that's not—no." Reid was crouched next to Geoffrey, close enough to see the obvious hesitation in the way he chose each word. "I know what it is. It's just... not something I can help with."

"What happened to you being a doctor?"

"That's not..." Reid's face went a deep, impressive shade of red, the kind of blush Geoffrey was honestly surprised someone without a blood supply of his own could manage. "Listen. Did the vampire you fought say something to you before he injected you?"

 _Injected_. Geoffrey shuddered. So it had done something to him. He forced down the wild fears running through his head—he was poisoned, he was cursed, he was about to become a leech—and forced himself to focus on Reid's words. "More or less. It spoke mostly nonsense. It said it would make me beg for death, or something like that."

"Something like that," Reid murmured under his breath, an echo of Geoffrey's words. "Yes. I expect so."

It was hard to focus. The fire under his skin was burning hotter. Geoffrey could truly feel it now, beyond just his veins, that strange artificial heat sinking into every part of his body. It made his limbs shake, left his head fuzzy, pooled in his stomach, and all he could think about was Reid's hands and how cool they'd felt on his skin. They'd chased the heat away where they'd touched him. Surely if Reid put his hands other places—

Geoffrey forced those thoughts away with a shake of his head, his cheeks suddenly burning as hot as the rest of him. Why the hell had his imagination run _there_?

"Look, just tell me what's going to happen," Geoffrey snarled.

"Nothing fatal, if that's what's worrying you. Or particularly debilitating, so long as it's taken care of. Just—this isn't the sort of thing I can help you take care of. If there's someone of your... acquaintance, so to speak..."

"For God's sake, leech, say what you mean!"

"A woman." If it was possible, Reid flushed even redder. "Or—otherwise, if you prefer. The venom's effect won't pass until you've chased it away."

 _A woman._ It took Geoffrey a moment, addled as he was by the heat, to wrap his mind around the meaning of Reid's words. A beat, another—and then it hit him, all at once, what the venom was. What the _heat_ was. What the vampire's words had meant. If Reid hadn't shown up when he did, that creature had intended to...

"Fuck," Geoffrey said vehemently. "Reid. Tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was.You know I wouldn't toy with you like this."

That was true enough. Reid might be the enemy, no matter how much he refused to act like it, but the man was also honest to a fault. Geoffrey let himself sink the rest of the way to the dusty floorboards, rested his head against the rotting wood and forced himself to breathe. In, out, in, out, past the wave of revulsion rising in his stomach and the heat like a fever that refused to stop worsening.

"Listen. Your Priwen is only a few streets away. I can get you to them safely—"

"No!" Geoffrey snarled. "No. No Priwen. No one hears about this. I can wait this out. It'll have to pass eventually."

"It won't," Reid said bluntly. "This isn't any normal venom. You know better than anyone that vampire's powers don't follow the same laws as natural compounds."

Geoffrey didn't answer that, just grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tight. He wanted—

Someone. _Anyone_. Another's hands on his, another's body touching his own, anything at all that might chase away this agony. His whole body was shivering with what he could now recognize as arousal, but an arousal that was far more pain than pleasure. He dug his nails into his palms, but the pain bought him no distraction. No relief. If this didn't fade on its own...

He would've expected Reid to be smug, if he'd ever thought to imagine this sort of situation at all. The great captain of the Guard of Priwen, hunters of vampires, reduced to a shaking mess by the very creatures he claimed to strike fear into.

Instead, though, when Reid shifted closer, he only sounded concerned.

"Please, McCullum," he said. "I know you have no reason to trust me with those close to you. But I give you my word I'll harm no one you name. I've no desire to see you suffer."

God. _God_. He thought—Geoffrey had to bite down on a harsh laugh. He thought Geoffrey was refusing to give names out of—what, fear? mistrust?—and not because he had no names to give.

"There's no one," Geoffrey snapped, "all right? There hasn't been, and there won't be tonight." He sucked back the things he wanted to say, the words he wanted to throw in Reid's face just to watch him recoil, and instead finished with, more quietly, "They're my people, Reid. I know that doesn't mean much to you, but—I won't have them see me like this."

The very idea of Geoffrey having _a woman_ was laughable, and the other idea—the one Reid had so carefully offered up, speaking around it with that silver tongue of his, was... no. Whatever he might be, whatever he might desire, Priwen came first. His men needed to respect him for Priwen to stand, and if that meant he had to set aside some things he might once have wanted, it was more than worth the sacrifice.

He'd never once expected that decision might someday come back to haunt him. Until tonight.

One of Reid's hands settled awkwardly on his back. Even through the layers of cloth, it felt—

Geoffrey couldn't stop his hips from jerking, couldn't stop a wordless noise from slipping out between his teeth, and Reid pulled his hand away just as quickly.

"I," Reid said, stumbling over his words, and then, "all right. In that case, there's... districts. You know as well as I do. You can find someone who'll be willing to help you there, I'm sure."

"No," Geoffrey said, just as vehemently as before. "Absolutely not."

Even if he did manage to find someone to his tastes, he couldn't imagine it—letting some stranger see him like this, desperate and needy and completely lacking control, relying on someone else to sate his body's animal desires. He'd rather die than entrust himself to some unknown person like that.

"I've seen trenches less difficult to move than you," Reid said, an edge of anger to his voice. "What do you expect me to do, then, McCullum? I'm not leaving you here. And you, apparently, aren't _leaving_."

McCullum didn't say anything. He didn't have answer. There was no one here but him, and Reid, no one he could...

The answer hit him, then, as obvious and as horrifying as a bullet to the temple or a vampire's fangs closed around his throat. Reid, the leech, with cold clammy skin and eyes that marked him as a murderer; Reid who'd spared him time and time again, who he trusted instinctively despite everything he'd learned as the leader of Priwen telling him to run from his kind; Reid who hadn't laughed or fled into the night the moment he'd realized what Geoffrey was dealing with now. Reid whose hands had felt impossibly good on his overheated skin, who he could far too easily imagine taking hold of and—

"Reid," Geoffrey said, struck at once with terror and a strange sort of bravado. Reid would kill him for this, he was sure, and he'd have no right to be surprised by it. "Help me."

"I'm trying!" Reid snapped.

"No. _Help me_."

For a moment, Reid didn't speak. Geoffrey held himself still, ready at any moment for his obvious shock to turn to anger—but Reid's voice was nothing but gentle as he said, "McCullum. You can't be serious."

"I told you just a few minutes ago: if I needed your help, I'd ask for it. I'm asking now."

"You're not yourself now. The fever..."

It was burning him, yes, his stomach and ribs and heart and skin—but his mind it had left untouched, except for the edge of need it was forcing through him. "I'm myself enough to know what I'm saying."

Reid reached out then, hesitantly, to press his hand along the line of Geoffrey's jaw. The shock of relief, of sudden perfect coolness, was enough to pull an undignified noise from him; there was nothing Geoffrey could do except lean into it, roll his cheek against the curve of those undead fingers to try and get _more_. 

He watched Geoffrey press into the touch with an expression Geoffrey couldn't decipher written across his face. One deadly fang worried at his bottom lip.

"I haven't," he said, a nonsense aborted phrase, and then, a little more coherently: "I've already damned too many in my short time in this life. If I harm you too—"

McCullum couldn't hold back a snort of laughter at that. "You think you have the power to do anything to my soul, _leech_? I've no illusions about my fate."

The things he'd done, he'd done in service of humanity—but he'd done them nonetheless. If God was as purely just as London's priests promised, then Geoffrey was no less damned than any ragged, bloodstained leech he hunted.

Reid was silent a long moment, staring at Geoffrey, and then he sighed. "All right," he said, and in one smooth movement he pulled Geoffrey's mouth to his.

It was—strange, kissing cold skin, feeling his lip press against the edge of a fang. And it was no less strange to feel the scrape of stubble against his mouth and cheek; Reid was a man, and a leech, and Geoffrey wanted him desperately. He pressed closer, turning Reid's hesitant attempt into something filthy, and when Reid's mouth opened on a little gasp he swiped his tongue against the knife-sharp teeth there. 

" _Ah_ ," Reid groaned, shifting into the kiss. 

"Come on," Geoffrey murmured back, a challenge in his voice, "you afraid you'll break me?"

"I'm afraid I'll break the _floor_."

Geoffrey couldn't say he minded that idea. Everywhere Reid touched him brought relief from the fire burning him up, and every hint of relief made the parts of him that still ached hurt so much more. He needed Reid's body pressed up against him everywhere—and for that, he needed the leech's coat off.

There was no hint of a pulse when he brought his hands up to clutch at Reid's skull, but Reid shivered when Geoffrey trailed his hands down the back of his neck to tug at his lapels. 

"Well? Show me."

"Not here," Reid said, casting a glance around the room. "Anyone could come in."

Geoffrey followed his line of sight, and—well, fair enough, this wasn't exactly the most defensible of positions. The door was still hanging on its hinges; the vampire's corpse was in the entryway, leaking dark blood onto the wood beneath and no doubt attracting scavengers in the process. If this weren't the middle in the night in one of London's worst districts, they would've had an audience already.

(And wouldn't _that_ be the talk of the town. The only living—ha!—son of one of the West End's most prominent families, caught in indecency with some piece of rough trade. Poor Reid would never get the rumor mill to let go of that one.)

But he didn't want to go too far, either. He didn't want to leave any of his soldiers the chance to see him like this—and he _especially_ didn't want them to see him clinging to a leech. He glanced towards the crumbling stairs in the corner.

"I bet no one would follow us up those."

Reid looked at them, weighing something up, and then nodded. "It'll have to do."

"Ah, poor doctor, stuck without his fine bed for the night."

"Would you prefer I sleep in the sewers, like a _proper_ vampire?"

Geoffrey flashed him a grin. "Can't say I'd mind seeing that."

Having to give up Reid's touch seemed the worst torture he'd faced so far; he shivered and bit back a noise of pain when Reid let go of him, then shivered again—this time out of disgust—when Reid skipped climbing the stairs entirely and instead darted up them in the form of a cloud of smoke. Leech tricks.

Geoffrey went up the human way, moving faster than he normally would have at the urging of the fever, then followed Reid through a set of doors that led to a bedroom. The sheets on the bed were covered in a thin layer of dust, and the air in the room was stale, but it somehow it still looked like the most comfortable place he'd ever laid eyes on.

Reid's hands were insistent, pulling his coat off his shoulders, plucking at the button on his waistcoat. Geoffrey should've pushed him away—his his long-honed hunter's instincts were screaming at him—but the fire in his veins was more insistent still, and it was all he could do to pull his own clothes off fast enough, to tug at Reid's in return in hopes of getting him undressed more quickly too.

Reid wasn't an ugly man, if Geoffrey ignored the vampiric cast to his skin and the inhumanity in his red-tinged eyes. He had a strong, handsome profile, muscle that was impressive for any man and _especially_ for a doctor, and the graceful confidence he moved with would have turned McCullum's head for entirely different reasons if he hadn't known how exactly Reid had gotten that grace. If he'd first met Reid before his turning, been introduced to the man and not the monster hiding in plain sight, he would've...

Well, he wouldn't have done anything. But he would have imagined a lot.

And now anything he might've imagined was going to happen, and this time with the _real_ Reid. The one who was blatantly and unashamedly a leech. God, wasn't this his lucky day.

Reid pressed Geoffrey backwards onto the bed, shedding his own coat and then the waistcoat and button-down beneath impatiently. The skin beneath was marked with more scars than McCullum had expected: jagged knots he could recognize as skal bites, harsh thick cuts that might well have come from Geoffrey's own men, and, beneath the rest, paler lines that must have been on his body since before he turned. Reid made a low noise in the back of his throat when Geoffrey pressed his hand against one of the larger scars and fixed him with a piercing stare.

Geoffrey let his fingers stroke in circles over the knotted tissue. Even with this small touch, the relief was measurable. He never wanted to pull away. "Not a bad collection, I have to admit."

Reid snorted. "Glad you approve."

He settled next to Geoffrey on the bed, skin-to-skin with him, kicking his own trousers off before tackling Geoffrey's. Every brush of his hands was an overwhelming relief, an escape from the ache that tormented him, and it was all Geoffrey could do not to clutch at him like some overexcited newlywed. This was Reid, this was a _leech_ —and God, he wanted him all the same.

Even beneath the burning heat, he knew it could have never been anyone else here tonight. There was no other vampire he would have let within a hand's-breadth of his neck without flinching, and no human at all he would've let strip his clothes from his body, press soft touches up and down his bare skin. He was everything Geoffrey should have hated and feared, and yet here they were.

Geoffrey was achingly hard by the time Reid pulled him free of his trousers; he couldn't help but be glad, when Reid settled in next to him, to see that the leech wasn't exactly unaffected either. His cock—stiff with stolen blood, no doubt—pressed insistently against Geoffrey's thigh.

For a moment Reid hesitated, until Geoffrey turned to press a bruising kiss to the side of his jaw.

"Come on," he said, "let's just..."

 _Get this over with,_ he didn't say, but he ran a hand over his own skin to make sure his meaning was clear. If he waited any longer he was afraid he might burn up entirely.

"Right," Reid murmured, and then pulled him into another kiss.

Geoffrey groaned into Reid's mouth, raking his blunt nails down Reid's chest. They had none of the sting of a leech's claws, but Reid hissed anyway and pressed tighter against Reid. His hands were everywhere—smoothing across Geoffrey's shoulders and collar and arms, scratching gently against his skull, brushing against his torso—bringing waves of relief, and a much more natural heat with it, wherever they touched him. He ground against Reid's body, wanting more of him.

He wouldn't beg. Wouldn't break down and ask Reid for what he wanted. But he urged him on with his mouth and his hands tangling in Reid's hair.

Finally, Reid broke the kiss. 

"I'd offer you my mouth," he said quietly, staring down at Geoffrey, "but in your condition I'm afraid it wouldn't give you much relief."

Geoffrey didn't know what to say to that. He lay there, struck dumb by thought of Reid lowering himself between Geoffrey's legs, that cold needle-lined mouth wrapped around his cock, looking up at him from under dark lashes with his eyes red and piercingly inhuman—

Reid broke him out of his thoughts with a touch to his shoulder.

"McCullum," he asked, "can I—"

"Yes," Geoffrey said, "yes, _yes_."

He could've ended that sentence any goddamn way he wanted and Geoffrey still would've agreed. His desire, the natural and the curse-borne both, had driven him beyond all common sense, past every instinct he'd drilled into himself over a decade and a half of fighting that told him to be cautious around a leech.

Reid pulled back for a moment—Geoffrey hissed a complaint—and came back with something that had to be pulled straight out of his doctor's bag. A cream of sorts, kept corked tight in a glass vial. He caught Geoffrey looking and said, "It's meant to be a treatment for abraded skin, but considering the circumstances..."

Geoffrey snorted. "I'll let you know if I feel especially healed afterwards."

He let Reid uncork the vial and spread its contents across his fingers, then let him press one of his legs up—forcing back a shiver at how exposed it left him, every single vulnerable part of his body on offer at once. Most of the concoction Reid spread across his own cock; the rest, smeared onto a single finger, he pressed to Geoffrey's hole.

Geoffrey groaned as Reid worked his finger inside him. He didn't know how he'd expected it to feel, but it was—strange. Not unpleasant. Reid's fingers were human right now, except for the chill that clung to them and chased the feverish heat away, but he could so easily imagine them turning into monstrous claws, tearing him to pieces from the inside out—

Reid's finger crooked inside of him, and Geoffrey's cock twitched as he gasped. _Fuck_. He wanted more of that.

"I'm not about to break, leech," he snarled, digging his hands into Reid's shoulders. "We're not both immortal, you know, if you wait too much longer I might turn grey."

"Mm," Reid said, giving him a look. "You have the impatience of a human, I'll give you that much. Tell me if this hurts too much."

He took hold of his own cock, crawling over top of Geoffrey's body to line their forms up more easily, and there was a moment when he paused with his cockhead pressed to Geoffrey's hole where Geoffrey had just enough time to realize that this was about to happen, that he was going to let a leech who'd once put him on his knees do _this_ to him—

And then Reid pressed inside him, and he could think of nothing else at all.

It hurt, of course it hurt; Reid's cock was so much bigger than a single finger had been. But it was the kind of ache Geoffrey could've chased down and begged for more of—it was that same soreness with an edge of pleasure as when he fought until his muscles burned or bandaged his wounds after staking a leech. And the ache eased the more Reid pressed slowly into him, the ache and the feverish heat both, leaving behind nothing but pleasure and the almost-too-intense feeling of Reid's body against him and inside him all at once.

Reid was moving with the same kind of deliberate caution he must've handled injured patients with; Geoffrey wanted no part of it. He rocked back against Reid's body, sinking further onto his cock, choking down a noise when that made the pain and the pleasure both so much _more_.

Reid grunted, fingers that for a minute felt more like claws digging into Geoffrey's arms. 

"McCullum," he said, sounding concerned.

"I told you I could take it, didn't I? Aren't you supposed to be stronger than a mere human?"

Reid licked his lips. "You're not yourself," he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "This isn't—I shouldn't..."

Geoffrey could've laughed. Maybe he ought to be tempted to shrink back, to try and spare his pride when all this was over—but he'd have little pride left regardless, with a leech's cock buried inside him and him begging for more, and anyway there were things he wanted far more right now than he wanted to save himself shame. 

"Fuck me," Geoffrey snarled, crass as he could make it, and then snapped out a vicious little, " _leech_ ," just to urge him on that little bit more. He wanted to strain Reid's precious self-control as much as this Ekon's strange venom had strained his.

Reid's eyes narrowed. There was something shadowy about him now, something not-quite-human to his form.

"Well," he said, his voice nearly a growl, "all right," and then he snapped his hips so viciously that Geoffrey couldn't help but cry out.

From that moment, Reid set a vicious, bruising pace; he fucked into Geoffrey in quick, rough strokes with a strength that was just this side of human, his eyes gleaming in the dim light and his fangs extended and far too large for his mouth. Geoffrey egged him on through each thrust, gasping insults or praises or wordless grunts, whatever babble he could bring to mind that might keep Reid from slowing.

One of Reid's hands found Geoffrey's cock, slid along it in a pace to match his thrusts; Geoffrey jerked at the touch, cold and perfect. "Fuck, Reid, I can't—"

He wasn't going to last much longer. Not like this.

"Shh," Reid said, "I know, just a moment."

He had to be close too. The strain in his voice was obvious. And then he ducked in close and pressed his mouth to Geoffrey's neck.

" _Fuck_ ," Geoffrey hissed, flinching, expecting the bite—

But all Reid did was lick a long stripe along the skin of Geoffrey's throat, his fangs touching the skin too gently to break through to the blood beneath.

"Oh," he murmured into the crook of his neck, "I, Geoffrey—"

He came with Geoffrey's name on his lips, his hand still working Geoffrey's cock with face buried against his collarbone, letting out a breath as his voice shuddered and broke.

That was all it took—one more stroke, another, and Geoffrey swallowed a cry as he followed Reid, coming across Reid's hand and stomach with a bitten-off, " _Ah_."

It felt—fuck, it felt good, it was him and a leech in some dust-covered bed and it was everything he'd never let himself admit he wanted. He clutched at Reid, trying to ride the high for just a moment longer, another, digging his fingers against Reid's pale shoulders as he shivered and clenched down around his softening cock.

Finally, though, he fell back against the pillow, sending a cloud of dust into the air. The feverish heat was fading, thank God, and the more natural pleasure was fleeing with it. Geoffrey felt cold, suddenly, in a way that had nothing to do with an Ekon's curse and everything to do with the fact that he was lying on his back with his arms wrapped around a leech and a leech's seed inside him.

He shouldn't have done this. Even with Reid, even in secret, even with the feverish heat urging him on—this was everything he'd fought against for so long, all lost in a heartbeat. If Eldritch could see him now...

But, somehow, even with the humiliation of it, there was a part of him that couldn't bring itself to regret this. Reid turned drowsily, face still buried in the crook of Geoffrey's neck, still not biting down, and clutched at Geoffrey tighter. It was... it was enough to keep Geoffrey from pushing him out of bed right away. That was all.

Instead he just sighed, and turned to try and catch sight of Reid's face. "You planning to try a snack? Because, I'll warn you—"

"No," Reid said. He laughed tiredly. "Trust me. If I bit you, I wouldn't be able to make myself let go."

"What, is my blood that fine a vintage to your kind?"

"Not to all my kind. To me, yes."

"...Ah."

That should've horrified Geoffrey, not sent a shiver down his spine. Fucking leeches, always worming their way into places they didn't belong. Including, apparently, Geoffrey's good graces.

For a while after that they were silent. Somewhere far overhead, outside their rickety shelter, the night was passing. But there was no clock here, nothing to mark time by except the beating of Geoffrey's heart. Even Reid's pulse was absent; Geoffrey'd expected it, beast that Reid was, but he still couldn't help but notice.

Geoffrey breathed in, listened to the settling of the house, the sound of the wind against the distant rooftops—until Reid stirred finally, pulled his head from Geoffrey's neck to say, voice heavy, "McCullum. I'm—sorry."

His shoulders were curled in slightly; he wasn't meeting Geoffrey's eyes.

Geoffrey blinked, confused. "For what?"

"For not finding my way to you sooner, before the Ekon could strike. And for"—his head sunk further—"not being the voice of reason I should've been. You were compromised, and I wasn't, and..."

He'd expected that Reid had done this as pity, that he'd been less disgusted by the thought of fucking Geoffrey than he had been upset by thought of leaving him to die. Apparently he'd been very, very wrong.

Geoffrey could see the narrative Reid was spinning for himself: the cruel, charming vampire taking advantage of its victim, bending and molding and breaking to its will the human it had chosen to hunt. It was a laughable idea, that McCullum might be a victim in this, that _Reid_ could be some great seducer, but—it was chewing on Reid nonetheless. Frightening him.

He could let Reid believe it, if he wanted to. It would be an easy way to keep the leech away from him. To make sure that this mistake could never happen again. It would be the smart thing to do.

Geoffrey sighed. He shifted around, just enough to bring Reid's body in closer contact again. The coldness of it was... almost pleasant, somehow. He'd warmed up from Geoffrey's body heat, and was by now less of an unpleasant chill and more of a room-temperature, human-sized blanket.

"Reid," he said, picking over his words carefully, "You said, earlier, that you would've offered me your mouth if you thought it would help."

Reid stilled. "...Yes."

"Is that offer still on the table? For future reference?"

"Ah," Reid said, and then, "If you'd care for it to be, then—yes. It is."

One of his hands curled against Geoffrey's hip. Geoffrey put his own hand overtop of it.

It was madness. Selfishness. But—there was no one he could trust this to but Reid, Reid who apparently shared a number of his tastes, and the more he thought about it the more sense it made. 

All tonight had been was physical. The breaking of a curse, and a little bit more on top of that. None of this had to mean anything more.

Dawn was coming soon. Reid would have to leave if he didn't want to burn. But for now Geoffrey just lay there, his hand pressed against Reid's own and their bodies curled together, and told himself over and over again that this meant nothing. Hoping he could make itself believe it.


End file.
